the jacket (the star-rover)-第42节

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abruptly　concluding　a　cross…examination　after　having　extracted　a

fatal　admission　from　a　witness。



It　was　impossible　to　convince　Oppenheimer　of　my　sincerity。　　He

insisted　that　I　was　making　it　up　as　I　went　along；　although　he

applauded　what　he　called　my　〃to…be…continued…in…our…next；〃　and；　at

the　times　they　were　resting　me　up　from　the　jacket；　was　continually

begging　and　urging　me　to　run　off　a　few　more　chapters。



〃Now；　professor；　cut　out　that　high…brow　stuff；〃　he　would　interrupt

Ed　Morrell's　and　my　metaphysical　discussions；　〃and　tell　us　more

about　the　ki…sang　and　the　cunies。　　And；　say；　while　you're　about　it；

tell　us　what　happened　to　the　Lady　Om　when　that　rough…neck　husband　of

hers　choked　the　old　geezer　and　croaked。〃



How　often　have　I　said　that　form　perishes。　　Let　me　repeat。　　Form

perishes。　　Matter　has　no　memory。　　Spirit　only　remembers；　as　here；　in

prison　cells；　after　the　centuries；　knowledge　of　the　Lady　Om　and

Chong　Mong…ju　persisted　in　my　mind；　was　conveyed　by　me　into　Jake

Oppenheimer's　mind；　and　by　him　was　reconveyed　into　my　mind　in　the

argot　and　jargon　of　the　West。　　And　now　I　have　conveyed　it　into　your

mind；　my　reader。　　Try　to　eliminate　it　from　your　mind。　　You　cannot。

As　long　as　you　live　what　I　have　told　will　tenant　your　mind。　　Mind？

There　is　nothing　permanent　but　mind。　　Matter　fluxes；　crystallizes；

and　fluxes　again；　and　forms　are　never　repeated。　　Forms　disintegrate

into　the　eternal　nothingness　from　which　there　is　no　return。　　Form　is

apparitional　and　passes；　as　passed　the　physical　forms　of　the　Lady　Om

and　Chong　Mong…ju。　　But　the　memory　of　them　remains；　shall　always

remain　as　long　as　spirit　endures；　and　spirit　is　indestructible。



〃One　thing　sticks　out　as　big　as　a　house；〃　was　Oppenheimer's　final

criticism　of　my　Adam　Strang　adventure。　　〃And　that　is　that　you've

done　more　hanging　around　Chinatown　dumps　and　hop…joints　than　was

good　for　a　respectable　college　professor。　　Evil　communications；　you

know。　　I　guess　that's　what　brought　you　here。〃



Before　I　return　to　my　adventures　I　am　compelled　to　tell　one

remarkable　incident　that　occurred　in　solitary。　　It　is　remarkable　in

two　ways。　　It　shows　the　astounding　mental　power　of　that　child　of　the

gutters；　Jake　Oppenheimer；　and　it　is　in　itself　convincing　proof　of

the　verity　of　my　experiences　when　in　the　jacket　coma。



〃Say；　professor；〃　Oppenheimer　tapped　to　me　one　day。　　〃When　you　was

spieling　that　Adam　Strang　yarn；　I　remember　you　mentioned　playing

chess　with　that　royal　souse　of　an　emperor's　brother。　　Now　is　that

chess　like　our　kind　of　chess？〃



Of　course　I　had　to　reply　that　I　did　not　know；　that　I　did　not

remember　the　details　after　I　returned　to　my　normal　state。　　And　of

course　he　laughed　good…naturedly　at　what　he　called　my　foolery。　　Yet

I　could　distinctly　remember　that　in　my　Adam　Strang　adventure　I　had

frequently　played　chess。　　The　trouble　was　that　whenever　I　came　back

to　consciousness　in　solitary；　unessential　and　intricate　details

faded　from　my　memory。



It　must　be　remembered　that　for　convenience　I　have　assembled　my

intermittent　and　repetitional　jacket　experiences　into　coherent　and

consecutive　narratives。　　I　never　knew　in　advance　where　my　journeys

in　time　would　take　me。　　For　instance；　I　have　a　score　of　different

times　returned　to　Jesse　Fancher　in　the　wagon…circle　at　Mountain

Meadows。　　In　a　single　ten…days'　bout　in　the　jacket　I　have　gone　back

and　back；　from　life　to　life；　and　often　skipping　whole　series　of

lives　that　at　other　times　I　have　covered；　back　to　prehistoric　time；

and　back　of　that　to　days　ere　civilization　began。



So　I　resolved；　on　my　next　return　from　Adam　Strang's　experiences；

whenever　it　might　be；　that　I　should；　immediately；　I　on　resuming

consciousness；　concentrate　upon　what　visions　and　memories。　　I　had

brought　back　of　chess　playing。　　As　luck　would　have　it；　I　had　to

endure　Oppenheimer's　chaffing　for　a　full　month　ere　it　happened。　　And

then；　no　sooner　out　of　jacket　and　circulation　restored；　than　I

started　knuckle…rapping　the　information。



Further；　I　taught　Oppenheimer　the　chess　Adam　Strang　had　played　in

Cho…Sen　centuries　agone。　　It　was　different　from　Western　chess；　and

yet　could　not　but　be　fundamentally　the　same；　tracing　back　to　a

common　origin；　probably　India。　　In　place　of　our　sixty…four　squares

there　are　eighty…one　squares。　　We　have　eight　pawns　on　a　side；　they

have　nine；　and　though　limited　similarly；　the　principle　of　moving　is

different。



Also；　in　the　Cho…Sen　game；　there　are　twenty　pieces　and　pawns　against

our　sixteen；　and　they　are　arrayed　in　three　rows　instead　of　two。

Thus；　the　nine　pawns　are　in　the　front　row；　in　the　middle　row　are　two

pieces　resembling　our　castles；　and　in　the　back　row；　midway；　stands

the　king；　flanked　in　order　on　either　side　by　〃gold　money；〃　〃silver

money；〃　〃knight；〃　and　〃spear。〃　　It　will　be　observed　that　in　the　Cho…

Sen　game　there　is　no　queen。　　A　further　radical　variation　is　that　a

captured　piece　or　pawn　is　not　removed　from　the　board。　　It　becomes

the　property　of　the　captor　and　is　thereafter　played　by　him。



Well；　I　taught　Oppenheimer　this　gamea　far　more　difficult

achievement　than　our　own　game；　as　will　be　admitted；　when　the

capturing　and　recapturing　and　continued　playing　of　pawns　and　pieces

is　considered。　　Solitary　is　not　heated。　　It　would　be　a　wickedness　to

ease　a　convict　from　any　spite　of　the　elements。　　And　many　a　dreary

day　of　biting　cold　did　Oppenheimer　and　I　forget　that　and　the

following　winter　in　the　absorption　of　Cho…Sen　chess。



But　there　was　no　convincing　him　that　I　had　in　truth　brought　this

game　back　to　San　Quentin　across　the　centuries。　　He　insisted　that　I

had　read　about　it　somewhere；　and；　though　I　had　forgotten　the

reading；　the　stuff　of　the　reading　was　nevertheless　in　the　content　of

my　mind；　ripe　to　be　brought　out　in　any　pipe…dream。　　Thus　he　turned

the　tenets　and　jargon　of　psychology　back　on　me。



〃What's　to　prevent　your　inventing　it　right　here　in　solitary？〃　was

his　next　hypothesis。　　〃Didn't　Ed　invent　the　knuckle…talk？　　And　ain't

you　and　me　improving　on　it　right　along？　　I　got　you；　bo。　　You

invented　it。　　Say；　get　it　patented。　　I　remember　when　I　was　night…

messenger　some　guy　invented　a　fool　thing　called　Pigs　in　Clover　and

made　millions　out　of　it。〃



〃There's　no　patenting　this；〃　I　replied。　　〃Doubtlessly　the　Asiatics

have　been　playing　it　for　thousands　of　years。　　Won't　you　believe　me

when　I　tell　you　I　didn't　invent　it？〃



〃Then　you　must　have　read　about　it；　or　seen　the　Chinks　playing　it　in

some　of　those　hop…joints　you　was　always　hanging　around；〃　was　his

last　word。



But　I　have　a　last　word。　　There　is　a　Japanese　murderer　here　in

Folsomor　was；　for　he　was　executed　last　week。　　I　talked　the　matter

over　with　him；　and　the　game　Adam　Strang　played；　and　which　I　taught

Oppenheimer；　proved　quite　similar　to　the　Japanese　game。　　They　are

far　more　alike　than　is　either　of　them　like　the　Western　game。







CHAPTER　XVII







You；　my　reader；　will　remember；　far　back　at　the　beginning　of　this

narrative；　how；　when　a　little　lad　on　the　Minnesota　farm；　I　looked　at

the　photographs　of　the　Holy　Land　and　recognized　places　and　pointed

out　changes　in　places。　　Also　you　will　remember；　as　I　described　the

scene　I　had　witnessed　of　the　healing　of　the　lepers；　I　told　the

missionary　that　I　was　a　big　man　with　a　big　sword；　astride　a　horse

and　looking　on。



That　childhood　incident　was　merely　a　trailing　cloud　of　glory；　as

Wordsworth　puts　it。　　Not　in　entire　forgetfulness　had　I；　little

Darrell　Standing；　come　into　the　world。　　But　those　memories　of　other

times　and　places　that　glimmered　up　to　the　surface　of　my　child

consciousness　soon　failed　and　faded。　　In　truth；　as　is　the　way　with

all　children；　the　shades　of　the　prison…house　closed　about　me；　and　I

remembered　my　mighty　past　no　more。　　Every　man　born　of　woman　has　a

past　mighty　as　mine。　　Very　few　men　born　of　women　have　been　fortunate

enough　to　suffer　years　of　solitary　and　strait…jacketing。　　That　was

my　good　fortune。　　I　was　enabled　to　remember　once　again；　and　to

remember；　among　other　things；　the　time　when　I　sat　astride　a　horse

and　beheld　the　lepers　healed。



My　name　was　Ragnar　Lodbrog。　　I　was　in　truth　a　large　man。　　I　stood

half　a　head　above　the　Romans　of　my　legion。　　But　that　was　later；

after　the　time　of　my　journey　from　Alexandria　to　Jerusalem；　that　I

came　to　command　a　legion。　　It　was　a　crowded　life；　that。　　Books　and

books；　and　years　of　writing　could　not　record　it　all。　　So　I　shall

briefen　and　no　more　than　hint　at　the　beginnings　of　it。



Now　all　is　clear　and　sharp　save　the　very　beginning。　　I　never　knew　my

mother。　　I　was　told　that　I　was　tempest…born；　on　a　beaked　ship　in　the

Northern　Sea；　of　a　captured　woman；　after　a　sea　fight　and　a　sack　of　a

coastal　stronghold。　　I　never　heard　the　name　of　my　mother。　　She　died

at　the　height　of　the　tempest。　　She　was　of　the　North　Danes；　so　old

Lingaard　told　me。　　He　told　me　much　that　I　was　too　young　to　remember；

yet　little　could　he　tell。　　A　sea　fight　and　a　sack；　battle　and

plunde